


Hallelujah

by CaptainSaku, KSilverland, TheSilverQuill



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drama, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Merc!verse, Slow Burn, mercenary au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:52:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9568424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSaku/pseuds/CaptainSaku, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KSilverland/pseuds/KSilverland, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverQuill/pseuds/TheSilverQuill
Summary: Shepard is a mercenary who grew up running with the Reds. Although she’s completely unrelated to Commander Shepard, she shares a history with her, one she would rather leave in the past. Having ran with several Merc bands over the years, she now finds herself on Omega during the rise of Archangel. A series of events unfolds, bringing them closer. Action, adventure, drama, pain, and a slow burn that gets frustrating sometimes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in our drafts for about a year, and we thought it’s about time we let it see the light of day. Hope you guys like the first installment!

**Chapter one – A Contract Sealed**

“I need someone dead.” No greetings, no introductions. Never one to beat about the bush. She knew who she was dealing with, and she didn’t need to introduce herself. Everyone knew who she was. She draped her arms along the back of the couch– _her_ couch–and cocked her head in an invitation to sit. Behind her, the club  pulsed with energy. Flashing lights, thrumming music, writhing dancers; her people, out to forget. She kept the wry smirk from her lips.

The woman before her moved as instructed: she sat, legs apart, elbows on her knees, face serious. It was obvious she meant business. One of her brows arched, but she said nothing.

“Some idiot’s decided to mess with my business. Nobody messes with my business.”

“Your regular brand of vigilante?” Everyone knew about them. Every once in a while, some idiot would come to the station with big dreams of playing hero and doing good by the people. Usually, they didn’t last long. Lately, however, there had been a surge in their numbers, and at least one of them seemed to be out of control.

“Worse. I’ve already lost twenty good men trying to get him. He’s good.”

“So you’ve come to me.”

Clever, really, but perhaps she should have thought of this earlier; spare the lives of some of her cronies. Not that any of them was worth much, but… cannon fodder could always come in handy at a later time.

“I hear you’re good.”

The woman sat back, but there was a tight smirk on her lips. “It’s going to cost you.”

“I know your price.” She nodded and a batarian stepped forth, holding a datapad. What was his name, again? Irrelevant.

The woman took the datapad and skimmed the data.Yes, that was indeed her price. “You don’t miss much.”

“This is my turf. It’s my business to know what goes on here. You don’t get to where I am by missing things.” She crossed her legs. “This guy’s a menace. He has to go.” She turned to look at the seated woman. “That datapad has everything we know about him.”

The information contained in the device in question wasn’t much to go on. Turian, no name, height estimate, last known whereabouts. Basic information. “And you say he took out twenty of your men?” There’d been rumors about one of the newer vigilantes in town lately. A turian, they said, bent on going after the gangs.

“At once.”

Interesting. Her eyes fell on her target’s name, or codename, rather: Archangel. Wasn’t that the one she’d been thinking of? Had he decided the gangs weren’t enough anymore? “This kind of job? It’ll cost you double.”

“I am nothing if not a reasonable woman. You’ll get half as down payment, and the other half when you bring me his head.”

“I’ll need new equipment. Better than the stuff you can find on the station.”

“Then buy it.”

“I’ll bill you for it.”

“Keep the receipts.”

The woman nodded once. “I’ll contact you when it’s done.”

There was a nod. The woman stood, jerked her head in her employer’s general direction, and then she was gone.

Aria T’Loak watched in silence as her new employee walked out of Afterlife. She’d heard things about her, about this ‘Diana,’ apparently named after one of the many human goddesses of the hunt. She’d heard about her history with the Suns, about her skill with a rifle. About her ruthless kills and cold demeanor, and how she had never failed a job. There were other rumors, certainly–that she had a deep-seated hatred for her own kind, that she had killed three men with a single bullet, the usual ramblings–but those were superfluous. What Aria cared about was efficiency, getting the job done.

For this Diana’s sake, the rumors better be right.

 

* * *

 

Diana strode from Afterlife, fingers already tapping on her omni-tool interface. She deftly avoided the ever-present line by the front door and weaved through the crowd. Her black armor gleamed dully in the red light of the station, and the bright orange of her tool threw her silhouette into sharp contrast. The device rang once, twice–

“What do you want, Diana?”

She scowled at the image on her wrist. The batarian merely blinked at her. “And here I was expecting at least a hello.”

“You don’t call unless you need something.”

Diana lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “All right. Equipment, Spectre grade if you can get it. A Widow rifle with a thermal scope and piercing mod, Avenger assault rifle with extended barrel and heat sink expansion, and the latest Carnifex Hand Cannon model with a piercing mod and melee damper.”

The batarian was quiet for a moment. “That’s one hell of a haul.”

“I’ll forward you half the credits once you get me a price, as usual.”

He scowled, his eyes narrowed. “This is beyond your pay grade.”

She deadpanned, eyes cold. “Most of my contractors pay better than Tarak ever did. I’ve moved up.”

The batarian’s features shifted as the vid call glitched. He was impassive when it righted itself. “I’ll call when I’ve got a price. But Rebecca–”

She cut the line with a sigh. The last time anyone had called her by that name had been the day she’d left the Suns. Diana shook her head, rolled her shoulders, and moved deeper into the bowels of Omega.


End file.
